


Kirkwall Welcoming

by imarastrahm



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, I Don't Even Know, Not Sure Where This Is Going To Go, Self-Insert, Slow Burn, Stream of Consciousness, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-10 02:59:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3274193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imarastrahm/pseuds/imarastrahm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>****I've been wanting to write a DAII fanfic for years, but thought I was silly for wanting to do it at all; much less a self-insert. Then I read HeroMaggie's self-insert story, and was inspired to just write my own. (I changed my name as I found it weird writing it down, so it's technically not 100% self-insert, though the main character will be just like me for very important reasons) So here is my very first fanfic! It's mainly stream of consciousness, and will likely continue to be so. Thanks for taking the time to read it!****</p><p>Norah somehow ended up in the care of a strange mage named Anders, in an even stranger city called Kirkwall. She couldn't remember how she got here, but upon arriving she's already met some unusual folks. Not sure how to get back home to her husband and son, she decides to unravel the mysteries day by day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Magic Does Exist](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3264806) by [HeroMaggie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeroMaggie/pseuds/HeroMaggie). 



There was a distant hum in the back of her head that was deafening – like a symphony of cicadas at the zenith of summer. It was dark. She tried opening her eyes, but couldn’t tell if they were closed or open. Panic set in, and she tried waving her hands in front of her face, feeling for anything tangible. Her arms seemed longer than they should be, as if she were moving them through deep, cold water. It was still dark. She tried to scream, but could only hear the cicadas. Louder and louder they kept droning. She screamed again. And again. And again. She flailed around, trying to swim through the water. A hoarseness developed in the back of her throat, a burning that told her she wasn’t submerged. Yet she still couldn’t see. The cicadas retreated, like a tide going out, and slowly she lost consciousness.

***

“She looks like she’s fighting something. She keeps screaming and trying to grasp at something that isn’t there. Been here two days already, and she won’t come to. Poor thing”, a stout old woman said to the robed man hovering over the cot.

 

“I’ve given her what healing I could, Agnes. I can heal the body. The mind isn’t so easy”, the robed man said. He straightened his back and turned to look at the old woman. “We’ll keep her here for observation as long as we can. The clinic fills up fast, but I won’t turn her away. Maker knows Darktown is like being at death’s door, anyways.” He frowned as the woman began whimpering again.

“We’ll do as you say. She’s a pretty thing, though her clothes be a tad strange”, Agnes said, kneeling down to put the damp cloth in her hands over the woman’s forehead. It seemed to calm the woman down. “What pretty long hair she’s got. Like freshly tilled earth. My first daughter had hair like hers, Andraste watch over her soul.” She stroked the woman’s cheek softly, and began humming a song with a thick, raspy voice.

The robed man’s gaunt face softened as he stood watching over the both of them. He sighed inwardly. There were enough people coming through his clinic that warranted another healer or two. He was overworked, underfed, and his mind…well, he felt a little like the woman in front of him, if truth be told. Trapped inside his own body, screaming, and clawing to be free. If only he could. If only there were something he could do to help. If only…

Blue light washed in front of his vision. He felt himself leaving his body, as if being pushed to the side. But he was there, he was still conscious. Oh no, he thought. His own thought. Not the Other. There was still time. He resisted. A voice boomed at him distantly from inside himself. He struggled to remain in control, grappling to hold onto every neuron. He tried imagining himself safe, secure – in a little cottage nestled in the mountains. The birds singing in the mornings. The rustling of the trees on a breezy summer day. A beautiful woman in his bed. Long hair splayed neatly beside him. A brunette, possibly…

“Anders?!”, Agnes was shaking him by the shoulders with weathered hands. “Damnit Anders, snap out of it!”, she yelled.

“Ok, ok, Agnes! I’m here. Don’t worry,” he said. Anders shook his head, and closed his eyes. “I’m always here”, he muttered.

Agnes looked up into his eyes, still holding his shoulders; wrinkled eyes probing his pale face. “You should eat more”, she said after a long pause.

Anders smirked sheepishly, then started chuckling. “I’m sorry”, he said. “I just…”

“I’ll bring you something to eat”, she said, patting his shoulder. “Don’t apologize to me, dearie. You’ve done more than enough for any of us stuck here in the muck. Just try to keep it together, eh?”

Anders nodded. “All right,” he said as she hobbled off.

He let out a deep sigh, and glanced around the deserted room. There were still examination tables to be scrubbed clean, the floor needed sweeping, and possibly fresh rushes put down if he could find some. Then there was the small matter of procuring more alchemical ingredients so he could sell more tonics and potions. He was running low on elfroot, and more deep mushrooms wouldn’t hurt. He was lost in his thoughts when a groan from the woman startled him.

“Oh. Almost forgot you were here”, he chortled.

The woman’s face was contorted in a grimace. He moved to her side, knelt down, and put his hands at her temples. He closed his eyes and let the magic flow through him, tempering it slightly. He felt the familiar tingle at his fingertips as they glowed a pale blue. Anders knew there was nothing more that could be done to help the woman, but magic was comforting to him. He hoped it’d be comforting for her, wherever she was.

He let the flow of the magic abate, but didn’t move his hands. She was warm, but not feverish. Her breathing slowed, and he let himself take in her face. It’d been a long time since he admired a woman. She was beautiful: round face, high cheekbones, arched eyebrows, chiseled nose, shapely lips, and a defined jawline sloping into a slender neck. There was a cleft in her chin he found adorable. And then there was the long, dark, thick cocoa colored hair. He wondered why he thought of it earlier…

“Taking in the sights, hmm?”, a raspy voice came from behind him.

 

Anders jumped at the intrusion, and whirled around to find Agnes with a bowl of thin looking stew.

“I, uh…”, he started.

“No, no. No need to explain yourself, dearie”, she grinned. “But maybe you should wait until she’s awake ‘fore you start making lovey eyes at her”.

“I wasn’t…I didn’t…”, Anders sputtered.

“Sit. Eat”, Agnes ordered. “You look dreadful. I’ll keep watch over the beauty”, she winked.

Embarrassed, Anders did as he was told and sat at his desk, his stomach in knots. He shuffled papers around, making room on his desk for the bowl. Half-written pieces of paper littered the area smudged with hastily drawn letters. He scowled at them and took a bite of his dinner. They both sat in silence for a time.

 

There was a scratching at the door, and Anders whipped around in his chair. He gave a frantic look to Agnes, and lunged for his staff on the other side of the room. Agnes watched the door warily, putting herself in front of the cot where the woman lay. Anders readied himself, and opened the door.

A gray cat sauntered in with its tail up, meowing.

“Old One-Eyed Tom!”, Anders exclaimed. He leaned his staff against the wall and closed the door. “You had us frightened!”, he scolded after the cat.

The cat turned around and hollered at him.

 

“Don’t do that again!”, he smiled. Agnes relaxed, and let out a hearty laugh.

“I’ve no food for you”, Anders told the cat as he sat back at his desk. The old cat jumped up, purring, and rubbed his face against Anders’ hands. “I have to eat, too”, he sighed, and fished out a morsel. “Otherwise Agnes will likely hit me over the head”.

Agnes smiled across the room and balled a fist teasingly.

The cat sneezed.

***

It was the cicadas again. Their cacophonous thrumming ebbed into her mind. It sounded different this time. Almost like a cat purring. But she didn’t have a cat.

 

She pried her eyes open, and this time she could see. It was blurry, and fuzzy, but she could see. It was still dark, but there was a soft orange glow to her left. She tried moving her left arm to reach out to it, but only her finger twitched. There was warmth on her chest, and a heaviness. Her hearing was stabilizing, and she realized the purring was actually a cat. She focused her eyes in front of her, and saw an old gray cat with one eye slashed shut. Its hair was dirty and matted, and its ears were ragged. An old tom cat, she thought. But not mine. Where am I?

 

She panicked again, and her breathing came faster. The cat opened its amber eye at her, and kept purring. She tried to speak, but her mouth was so dry. Her lips finally parted, and she moved her tongue around in her mouth.

“Buuhhh”, she said. The cat mewed back at her.

“You’re finally awake”, a man’s voice called to her. There was rustling, and then soft hands were on her forehead. A handsome face loomed into focus. “Are you feeling alright?”, he asked, shifting his hands to her temples, feeling her skin. “Are you in any pain?”

All she could do was look at him with bleary eyes.

“Old Tom’s taken a liking to you”, the man smiled. A lovely smile that lit up his piercing, hazel eyes. “He’s a grumpy sort of cat. Only seems to like me and Agnes”.

She searched his face and tried to speak, but he cut her off.

“Let’s get you some water”, he said. “I’ll be right back”.

She could hear muffled footsteps retreating. Old Tom jumped off her and followed the man across the room, meowing the whole way.

“No, this isn’t for you”, he chided gently to the cat.

The face came back. “First, let’s try to sit you up”.

She nodded cautiously as soft, gentle hands reached behind her back. She moved her arms, but they were stiff and sore.

“Easy, now”, he said, hefting her up. “You’ve been motionless for a while”.

 

Once she was sitting up, she looked around the room. There were no windows, and other weird looking cots were strewn about the room. They were sloped to the middle where a large hole was. It was for draining blood. She almost gagged at the thought. On the wall across the room were old jars of odd colored liquids, various herbs she’d never seen, and lots of very ancient medical supplies that looked surprisingly new.

The man held a cup for her up to her lips, and she grasped at it loosely. She took small sips at first, and then larger and larger gulps until the cup was empty.

“Slow down”, the man laughed. “You’ll get a belly ache. I just cleaned someone’s vomit this morning”. He refilled her cup, and she drank it greedily. She could feel its coolness going down her mouth and throat. She put her hand to her neck to feel it, and was glad the burning sensation was receding, if but a little.

 

The man extended his slender hands and put them on her neck, nudging aside her hands. She tried to resist, but then she saw his eyes close and suddenly there was a soft blue glow coming from his hands. She tried to yell at him, and slap his hands away, but the pain in her throat was all but gone. He let his hands drop, while she looked at him in horror.

“You were screaming a lot while you slept”, he told her, in an almost defeated tone. He’d been given that look before.

“Wha…? Who are you?”, she asked as she looked at him, equal parts curiosity and dread.

“Ah, so you can talk”, the man smiled a little. “I’m Anders. By your reaction, I see you’ve never encountered a mage before. This is my clinic you’ve been in for the past few days”, he gestured to the room.

She looked him up and down expectantly, not sure what to say. She realized her mouth was agape, and closed it.

“To be honest, we weren’t sure when you would wake up”, he continued, brisking past her nervousness. “Some poor sod said he saw you fall out of the sky somewhere outside of Kirkwall. If you can believe him. He brought you here. You’re lucky, though. Anyone else and you’d have been left for dead. You were pretty banged up. Multiple contusions. Probably lots of fractures. Nothing beyond my skills, however”.

 

She looked at his face, still silent.

His hazel eyes looked into hers, and she felt her heart start to race. She looked hastily down into her lap.

“Are you hungry?”, he asked.

She nodded slowly, not looking up from her lap.

“I, uh, don’t have much here at the moment. But I can get you something bland for now”.

 

Watching him walk away, she tried shifting her weight and swung her legs over to the side of the cot. He came back quickly with some bread, a knife, and a small hunk of cheese. He pulled over a chair that was sitting by a desk, and began slicing both for her, putting a few pieces of each into a soft cloth.

“Here. Eat”, he ordered.

She took the cloth gratefully and ate delicate nibbles, looking at the old cat that began meowing frantically at her. She took a small piece of cheese and fed it to him. He sniffed it first, and then gobbled it up.

“Careful”, Anders laughed. “He’ll trick you into eating everything you’ve got. Here, shoo”, he said picking the cat up and putting it in his lap. The cat protested, but was soon purring.

“I didn’t figure you’d have brown eyes”, he said softly, peering at the cat in his lap.

She furrowed her brow incredulously, and stopped mid-chew. “What?”, she demanded, bread and cheese almost falling out of her mouth.

 

“You just…don’t look like most of the other women around here”, he said nervously. “I’d figured you for having blue eyes, or maybe green”.

She looked at him like he had suddenly grown three heads, and stuffed the rest of the food into her mouth. Anders coughed abruptly. She swallowed her food thickly.

After a long silence she spoke.

“Thank you,” she said, slowly lifting her eyes to look at him. “Thanks for…everything you’ve done”.

Anders waved a hand dismissively. “It’s what I do”.

“I…have no way of repaying you”, the woman said, looking down at her feet, puzzled as to why they were bare.

“It’s, also, what I do. I may be a mage, but I specialize in the healing arts. Not many mages do, unfortunately. I provide free medical care to those who can’t afford it. I get by on donations, and…odd jobs”, he shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

She gazed at him admiringly, really seeing him for the first time. He was tall, slender, with dirty blond hair pulled back into a small ponytail. His face was handsome, if a little gaunt and pale. His eyes had a beautiful color of hazel, but they held a deep sadness. He wore outlandish green and gold robes, with feathers at the shoulders that looked in need of a good washing. He pet the old cat in his lap with lithe, firm hands.

 

He caught her peering at him, and she looked away quickly. He gave a mischievous smile. “Now that I’ve told you who I am, do you mind telling me who you are?”

“Oh, I’m…sorry”, she said apprehensively, wringing her hands in her lap. “I’m Norah”.

 

“Ah. There's a waitress at The Hanged Man named Norah. But I see you're not she, and take it you’re not from around here?”, he grinned at her. She shook her head, smiling a bit.

“I’m from…well, I guess it doesn’t matter now. Where is here, anyway?”, she glanced around the room again.

 

“Kirkwall, in the Free Marches. Darktown, precisely. Couldn’t ask for a worse place, really”. Old Tom jumped out of Anders’ lap, having caught the sight of a blur of grayish brown. Norah stared on in horror, finally realizing the dirt floor for the first time.

“It’s…a bit of a dump”, Anders offered sweetly, following the cat with his eyes. “Old Tom’s as good a mouser as any, though”. He looked back at her. “So you’re not from here here, that much I can gather. Do you have any family or friends I can try to contact?”

 

She shook her head again. “I…don’t know. I have a husband, and a son, but…”, she bit her lip, trying to hold back tears. Where were they? Why was she alone? Where was she? Kirkwall and Darktown might as well be on another planet for all she knew. And yet, she had little memory of how she got here…

Anders interrupted her thoughts, seeing the torment on her face, “Hey, it’s going to be alright. You’re safe here. You can stay as long as you like”. He leaned forward to reach a hand out, and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

“I’m here for you”, he smiled and caressed her cheek, staring into her eyes. She relaxed a bit, and nodded gratefully.

“I have friends that can help”.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Norah finally meets some of Anders' friends, and finds a new place to stay.

The Hanged Man was an inn and tavern in Low Town - the embodiment of the chaotic underworld. Inside, a boisterous drunk was demanding more whiskey at the bar with a slurred tongue. Several shady looking characters huddled in a corner of the room, speaking in hushed tones. On a table to the left of the great room, a gaudy looking man stood blundering his way through a song. He was his own audience.

A bored looking waitress milled around picking up tankards and possessions left by other drunks who stumbled out the doors. Another waitress threw more logs into a large fireplace. The place stank of vomit and sulfurous farts.

Past the great room and up the stairs were the inn’s stale rooms. The largest and most expensive was rented out by a beardless dwarf who sat at his long table frowning at the blank page in front of him. “Can we just make an agreement that you’ll write yourselves?”, he asked the paper, his voice molten gravel.

Rubbing his face in frustration he reached for a half-filled decanter near him, when a rap came from the door. An audible sigh escaped him, and he heaved himself from the stone chair. “I suppose my ass was getting too comfortable”. The knocking became more frantic, and a muffled voice came from the other side.

“Varric, open the blasted door!”

“Coming, Blondie”, the dwarf called, dragging open the heavy door. The gaudy man was still singing in monotone, and glass shattered on the floor. A fight had just broken out by the sounds of it.

Anders towered over him, eyes flitting back and forth. He scanned the room past the dwarf’s head. “Are you alone?”, a nervous hint tinged his voice. He gripped his staff tighter.

“Usually. Come on in. I was just pouring myself something to drink”, Varric gestured to the table. The mage threw a quick glance behind him as he bustled in the room. Varric shoved the door closed.

“You alright, Blondie? You look ghastly. Just like I did after I lost that game of Wicked Grace two weeks ago”, he jested.

Anders set his staff on the wall behind him, and flopped into a chair next to the fireplace. He leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I have a favor to ask you”, he said quietly. Varric rustled in a cabinet at the other end of the room and brought a small tankard over to his seat. He began filling the two cups with wine, and nudged one over to the mage.

“And I have an answer for you”, Varric said, taking a small sip. The wine was a heavy red - sour and stale from sitting out too long, but he drank it regardless.

“Hopefully it’s, ‘Why yes, I will help you, old friend. Anything you need! Just say the word’. And not, ‘Piss off, mage’! I seem to get that one a lot”, Anders complained. He took the tankard and swallowed a large gulp. “There’s a woman..”, he started.

“Of course! There always is,” Varric quipped, laughing. He could almost hear the mage rolling his eyes in his head.

“I’m serious. There’s a mysterious woman dressed in strange clothing who was brought to me a few days ago. She was in a pretty bad way. I healed her as much as I could, but she went comatose. But just yesterday, she woke up. She has no memory of how she got here. The man that brought her in said she fell from the sky! I don’t know what to make of it”, Anders rambled. “Could it have been a tear in the Veil? I’ve heard of such, but a whole person materializing from the Fade?”

Anders fell silent, lost in his thoughts. Varric drank his wine down, and poured the last from the decanter. He let the mage brood for a time, not sure what to say.

After a while, Varric spoke carefully, “I’m no expert on the Fade, you know that. But you’re not asking me what I think of this ethereal situation. So what are you asking?”

Anders shook his head.

“I’m...not sure. I should be wary of her. Of a demon, maybe. But if she is some kind of demon, she’s putting on an interesting act. The woman isn’t stupid. She’s knowledgeable, in fact, especially when it comes to some of the healing arts. And she’s assertive. She’s started helping out around the clinic. But she’s never seen magic! It frightens her, I think. She won’t speak much of where she comes from.”

Anders looked down at his hands. “I don’t know what to do with her”, he confessed.

The dwarf was incredulous. “And she’s stayed? In the sewers? Ho ho, you got a keeper there. So why not keep her around if she’s helpful? And who knows, maybe you’ll foster some romance. Fall in love. Quit this renegade mage business you’ve got. Raise some kids together”. Varric grinned and waggled his eyebrows suggestively in Anders’ direction.

Anders pursed his lips and sat up straight. “I...that’s not”, he flustered, eyes flashing in annoyance. “Look, this woman’s got Darktown in tumult right now. I’ve got more and more thugs showing up to the clinic every day, interested in information, or making coin off her somehow. Maker’s breath, if this gets wind to the Templars, and they show up…”, he trailed off, a growing distress apparent in his voice.

Varric held his hands up in appeasement. “Calm down. Let’s not lose composure just yet. Nothing’s happened. So I’ll ask again: how can I help?”

“I don’t know…”, Anders began, desperation creeping into his voice. “She’s got no family or friends here. I just need to put her in a safe place. At least until things die down in Darktown, and everyone forgets about her”.

“Hmmm…”, Varric mused, rubbing the stubble on his jaw. “Lots of places in Low Town anyone can squirrel away to. Going to take a bit to shut up the larger gangs, but the smaller ones’ll be easy to placate. Telling stories is what I do best. Don’t worry about that. As far as where to put her...”

The air was cold and taciturn as both men pondered. The fireplace crackled and a large log fell, showering the area with sparks. The sudden noise startled them both, but Varric’s face lit up. He turned to look at Anders, smiled, and spoke a word,

“Hawke”.

***

Norah sat on a small stool ripping off leaves of elfroot and placing them in a small bowl. She felt pensive. Earlier the clinic burst with the impoverished and the diseased - the dregs of Darktown’s local denizens. Some clamored for work. Others for food and shelter. But to the mage’s credit, Anders helped them all.

He helped her, too - gave her a cot to sleep on, food, and a somewhat clean blanket for warmth. He was an odd man, and she needed to remind him daily to eat, bathe, and sleep. Often she found him writing whenever he had a free moment. He would let the candle burn long into the night, but whatever he wrote appeared to distress him. Most pages he wrote ended up in a crumpled mess on the floor. Norah decided not to ask him about it.

She returned Anders’ kindness by helping him around the clinic. He showed her how to mix simple potions and poultices. She organized what little supplies they had, and triaged those that came in. Agnes had said before her arrival the place was more or less chaotic, and demand for the mage’s attention grew by the day. She helped as much as she could, but it was never enough.

He was a sweet man, and she had to keep reminding herself she was a married woman. Not that she forgot she was, but the nights were excruciating. She hadn’t slept alone in years, and felt she had no one to confide in. Besides, she had no idea how she was going to get back home. And he wasn’t ugly by any means...

Instead, she focused her efforts on her work. Though she would catch him glancing sidelong at her once in a while. Agnes kept the both of them on task, smirking in spite of herself.

It had been a few days since she woke up. She was in grave need of a hot shower, and a massage. Yet it was her son she missed the most, and she had to make a conscious effort not to think of him. The children at the clinic were a constant reminder, too. Even so, she forced herself to smile every day.

Anders had told her what he was doing at the clinic was more or less illegal. Formidable men and women showed up asking for anyone unusual a few times. Concerned she looked too outlandish, he had Agnes find suitable clothing. She found a threadbare men’s shirt that almost floated on Norah. She helped cut the sleeves and hem the sides to be more form-fitting. A kind woman offered to make her a simple leather bodice as a gift of thanks. She had it made the next day, and Norah never felt more touched. Leggings and boots were found, too. Soon she looked like any citizen of Darktown, though not a glamorous one.

It was late afternoon, and the clinic was empty. Staring at the leaves in the bowl, she ground a pestle into them. They soon formed a sticky mash that smelled of freshly mowed grass. Except sweeter. It made her reminisce of home, and she fought back the lump forming in her throat. Agnes was nearby tearing strips of cloth.

“It does no good to hold the tears back, dearie”, the old woman said, without looking up. “They’ll only get bigger and bigger. Better to let it all out”. She struggled to rise, and stood in front of Norah. “Here”, she said, hugging the young woman.

Norah dropped the pestle and bowl, burying her face in the old woman’s chest. She let out wracking sobs for a time. Her back shuddered as she struggled for each breath. From across the room, Anders entered through the door. “I think I’ve foun-”, he started to announce, but cut short. He saw Norah and Agnes, and gave the latter a concerned look. Agnes shook her head, stroking the young woman’s hair.

Norah sat up straight. Embarrassed, she wiped the tears and snot from her face. “I’m sorry”, she began. But Agnes stopped her with a pat on the shoulder, and smiled. Anders opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it. He crossed the room in graceful strides. Kneeling down beside Norah, he picked up the bowl and pestle.

“I think you dropped this”, he said, a soft smile on his lips. He looked into her eyes, and she felt herself blush.

“Thank you”, she said, taking the bowl and looking away. She tried to smooth the hair from her face, thinking she looked a wreck.

Agnes smacked Anders on the arm. “Enough of that! What did you want to tell us?”, she asked, mirth in her voice.

“Ow! Hey”, Anders recoiled, still gazing at Norah for a moment. He gave her another smile, and stood up. “I think I’ve found a safe place for her to stay”.

Norah looked back up at Anders, eyes wide in curiosity. He’s so tall, she thought.

He continued to look at her, expecting a response. After a few awkward moments, he cleared his throat, “Well, you’ll be staying with a friend of mine. Their family has a large estate in High Town. Certainly better than here”.

Norah nodded. “Who is your friend? When do I get to meet him?”

“Ah. It’s a she. And she’ll be coming tonight. Her name is Marian, but we just call her Hawke”.

“Hawke?”, Agnes tsked. “The one who’s always getting into trouble?”

Anders laughed. “Hawke doesn’t get into any more trouble than I do. Besides, she’s a damn good mage. Sorry if that bothers you”, Anders looked down at Norah.

“No, no, it’s alright. I think I’m getting used to the concept.” She tried to give a reassuring smile. “A little”.

“Good. Now all we have to do is wait for Hawke to come. At least you won’t have much packing to do”, Anders jested.

Norah felt uneasy, but smiled regardless.

***

The sound of heavy boots stomped up to the door. Anders seemed equal parts nervous and excited. He had absorbed himself in writing again. Agnes sat knitting. Norah felt nauseous, and so sat with her hands in her lap not doing much.

“Anders!”, a woman’s voice came from the door. It startled them all. He jumped from his desk, and unlatched the lock on the door.

“Shh! Don’t shout!”, he reprimanded the voice.

A woman sauntered in, younger than Norah was expecting. She folded her arms over her chest and gave her a long stare.

“So this is the one you were babbling about?”, Hawke asked. She had the bluest eyes Norah had ever seen. Like a glacier in Iceland she’d seen a picture of once. Her dark hair was cropped short, and she wore a long robe similar to Anders’.

A short man followed behind her, chuckling. A dwarf, Norah thought. No beard, but...chest hair?

“Hawke, Varric - I’d like you to meet Norah”, Anders gestured to her. She stood up and nodded to each, not sure if she should shake hands or not.

“Nice to meet your acquaintance,” Varric said as he bowed a little. “Hey Blondie, she is pretty”, Varric whispered, jabbing him with his elbow. Hawke gave a throaty laugh. Anders sighed loudly.

“These are my friends”, he said. “Well, some of them, anyway”.

Hawke walked over, and extended a hand to Norah. “The only ones you’ll need”, she said grinning and offering her hand. Norah shook it, and relaxed.

“Anders has told us so much about you”.

“All good things, I hope”, Norah grinned back. Hawke laughed again. It was a pretty laugh, if a bit mischievous.

“He said you needed a place to stay. We’d be happy to have you with us at the illustrious Hawke Estate”, she winked. Anders looked a bit solemn, and Agnes sat knitting. She looked indifferent at all the commotion around her.

“I...don’t know what to say. Thank you”, Norah said, uncomfortable with so much generosity.

Hawke waved a hand in dismissal. “We’re happy to help. Well, what do you say? Fancy a long walk under the moonlight?”

Norah looked to Agnes, and then to Anders. Agnes set her knitting down and hobbled over to embrace Norah. “You be safe”, she said. “Make sure you take care of yourself”. She looked up at the young woman. Norah squeezed her back, holding in tears. “I’ll miss you”, she said. Agnes smiled, “Don’t act like this is the last time we’ll see each other, dearie. I have a feeling you’ll be back soon”, she looked over to Anders.

He stepped over to Norah, and started to speak. She cut him off by wrapping her arms around his neck, and burying her face in his chest. “Thank you so much. For everything”, she breathed.

Taken aback, Anders looked from Agnes, to Hawke, and then to Varric for help. Varric gave him a thumbs up, Hawke winked at him, and Agnes threw her hands up in mock frustration. Looking down, he put his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. “Hey, I’ll see you soon”, he whispered. His heart raced. He felt excitement tingle through him, and he tried to keep composed. Maker, how long had it been since he felt like this?

She let go, and gave him a shy smile.

Disappointed, he watched her turn around as she followed Hawke and Varric out. She glanced back and gave him another smile.

He returned it, still smiling as the door closed behind them.

Agnes shook her head

***

The air was chilly as they walked. Hawke had warned her it was a long ways away. They had to weave through Low Town first, and then ascend the stairs to get to High Town. Low Town was in less ruins than Darktown, thought she could gather it wasn’t altogether a wealthy area. Little shops dotted here and there. All were closed and boarded this time of night. 

Low Town was a maze of filthy streets, and raucous taverns were the only places still open. Only drunkards and theives prowled around at night. The ground became cleaner the closer they approached the steps to High Town, and soon there were actual cobblestones to walk on. Hawke and Varric seemed relaxed where Norah jumped at every loud sound. Though the pair were well armed, she had to remind herself.

“So...you and Blondie, huh?”, Varric said after a time.

“Who?”

“I give nicknames to all my friends. Blondie is Anders. Seems to fit him better”.

“That’s not even his real name”, Hawke called over her shoulder.

“Oh ho, even more fitting then”, Varric chortled.

“What’s hers?”, Norah pointed to Hawke’s back.

“Hawke is Hawke”, he shurgged. “She doesn’t need one”.

“Oh”, Norah said, confused.

“So? What about you two? The way he talks about you makes me think there’s something more going on”.

“Oh...no. Nothing like that”, she gave a nervous laugh. “He didn’t...he never...he’s just really nice. Besides, I’m married”.

Varric whistled, and Hawke laughed.

“Married? Hmmm”, Varric mused.

“Varric likes to write stories”, Hawke offered to Norah’s surprised look.

“‘The renegade mage fell in love with the most forbidden fruit. No, not a Templar, or a darkspawn. But a beautiful, mysterious, and married woman,’” Varric teased. Norah shook her head in bewilderment.

“We’re here!”, Hawke announced.

The entrance to the manor was grandiose. Ivy and other plants grew to either side. Strange flowers Norah had never seen grew from beneath the ivy. Before she could make a retort to the dwarf, the door opened. Hawke pushed her inside.

Norah stumbled forward and into the arms of an older woman. “Marian!”, the woman chided. “Stop that! The poor girl’s been through enough. Are you alright, darling?” The woman smoothed her clothing and gave her a radiant smile.

Hawke grinned and shrugged. “Sorry I can’t stay for the welcoming party. Isabella’s asked me to help her with something. My mother will help you with whatever you need”. Hawke waved a hand at them all, and started trudging back.

“Do you need back-up?”, Varric hollered.

“Girls only!”, Hawke shouted.

“Ha, figures”, he said. “Well, I suppose I’ll help you settle in, too”.

“Come, dear”, Hawke’s mother wrapped a robe around her shoulders. “We’ll get you warmed up”.

“Thank you”, Norah said.

“I’m sorry for my daughter’s brash behavior. She’s always been that way”, she sighed.

“I bet”, Varric offered from behind.

“I’m Leandra, however. Welcome, welcome!”

Leandra led them into the study. She looked like an older version of Marian, with brown eyes instead of the unearthly blue. She was prim and proper where her daughter was bold and blithe, and she exuded harmony around her.

Norah sat down on a large couch.

“I’ll be back with some tea, dear. I’ll have Orana bring some sweets”, Leandra smiled and glided out of the room.

Norah inspected the place. It was spacious, and the bookshelves reached almost to the ceiling, filled entirely with books. A writing desk sat in the back of the room. The furniture was posh, and the paintings hung depicted lavish portraits. Varric set his crossbow down on a small chest nearby, and stirred the fire nearby. She watched him for a time.

He was stout, muscular, and had a genial face. Blond hair was tied in a small ponytail, which reminded her of Anders a bit. Though rugged was the best word to describe his overall appearance. The front of his tunic was open, exposing a chest full of luxurious chest hair. She couldn’t help but stare.

“You gonna say something, or are you going to spend the night staring at my chest?”, he chuckled at her without looking up.

Norah laughed. “Usually I’m the one saying that”.

Varric dusted off his hands and took a seat on the other couch across from her, smirking. “Oh, so you do have a sense of humor? Good to know”, he flashed her a grin.

A small, blonde elf entered the room carrying a tray with a plate of an assortment of cookies. The room became awash in the smell of them. The elf stood uncomfortably for a moment, looking between Varric and Norah. Leandra bustled behind her with a teapot, and teacups.

“Orana, darling, just set the tray down over here”, she motioned with the teapot at a low table near Norah. Orana bowed her head, and did as she was told. With her head still bowed she moved to the side, wringing her hands; not daring to make eye contact with anyone. Leandra began pouring the tea, and saw Orana in distress.

“It’s alright, dear. Come sit with us. You’ve done a fine job”, Leandra soothed.

“Thank you, miss”, Orana said, her hands shaking. She hunkered down next to Norah.

Leandra beamed at all of them, handing them each a teacup. Norah took hers, and blew at the steam. It smelled like Earl Grey. A comforting scent of home.

“Marian and Varric tell me you’re not from around here”, Leandra began. “They said you’ve been holed up in Darktown. Poor thing. We’ll get you settled in tonight. I don’t have much for you to wear at the moment. I see that mage did what he could”, she looked Norah up and down. “But, we’ll have more...respectable clothing made for you. We’ll draw up a bath for you in the morning, too”. She paused to take a sip. Varric interjected by laughing.

“Hawke’s mother is a mother to us all”, he said, spreading his arms wide.

“She’s a very nice lady”, Orana piped up. She went back to drinking her tea in big gulps.

“Yes, it seems so”, Norah said, smiling at Leandra. “Thank you all, so much. I...don’t really know what to say. These past few days have been…”, Norah trailed off, overwhelmed with emotion. The tears came, and she tried to blink them away.

“Don’t worry, darling. You’ll be feeling better by tomorrow, I promise. Then we’ll all have a nice, long chat. But for now, drink your tea”, she motioned to Norah.

“Oh”, Leandra said, suddenly remembering something important. “And welcome to Kirkwall!”

“Yes”, Varric chortled.

“Welcome home”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to write in a F!Hawke. Seemed to come more naturally. Slow start so far, but I have a feeling things will pick up once Norah finally meets the whole gang.


	3. Chapter 3

Norah woke to a tranquil morning. Sunlight trickled in through the windows, catching dust motes in the shifting rays. She watched them for a time. The bed she lay upon was huge, and she almost drowned in pillows and blankets. The fire in the fireplace had gone out, and she knew were she to leave her fortress of comfort, she’d be freezing. It felt weird not to have anyone calling for her. No husband, no kid. No scrambling in the mornings to get everyone dressed, breakfasts made, lunches packed. She wondered briefly if there was coffee in this strange world, but shut the thought out.

“Time to get up before you start crying again”, she muttered to herself. Leandra had given her one of Hawke’s night gowns. It was a bit tight as Hawke was a slim woman, and Norah had ample breasts, and hips. And ample...everything else. She knew she looked ridiculous, and hoped a little cleavage wasn’t taboo at breakfast.

There was a basin of water near the bed she surmised was for washing up. She splashed the water onto her face. It was frigid. She gave a yelp, and then laughed to herself, “Wish I would have known that trick back home”.

Drying her hands off, she grabbed a burgundy robe draped across a chair at a writing desk. She put it on, and tied it at the waist. It did little to hide anything more, and she sighed in frustration. “Goddamn, I’m a mess”, she complained. Shaking her head, she started for the door, but heard a commotion outside. Putting her ear to the door, she tried listening. Things could be heard crashing and smashing, and muffled voices were shouting. One voice seemed almost enthusiastic.

“Well, that’s more like it”, she said, and opened the door.

Claws scrambled upon the stone. Something big and fast ran at Norah, and she tried shutting the door, but it burst in. She let out a scream for a moment before turning to look at what it was.

It let out a happy bark.

A giant, tan dog was panting and drooling on the bed. Its front paws hunkered down, and its docked tail was up in the air, furiously wagging. It barked again, and started chasing its tail. A large grin spread across Norah’s face.

“Hardy!”, a woman’s voice called. A clatter of metal followed along with the voice, and thick, booted steps stomped to the door. “Andraste, I’m going to kill that dog. Hardy!”, the woman looked into the room.

“There you are”, she boomed. “Get down right this instant!”

The woman pointed to the floor beside her, and Hardy obliged, looking sheepish.

“I hope you know how much trouble you’ve caused. I don’t know what’s gotten into you”. Hardy whined, and pawed at the woman’s hand.

“Don’t give me that. Now go lie down somewhere out of the way”, the woman fixed the dog with a steely gaze. Hardy huffed, and sulked to a corner of the room. He turned around three times before prostrating himself on the floor, blinking up at the both of them.

“Well, I hope that is the only excitement for the morning”, the woman said, a slight smile on her face. She turned to look at Norah, and extended a gloved hand. “I’m Aveline”, she said. Norah shook her hand, staring at her freckled face. A shock of red hair was secured with a headband, and tied behind her head. Jade eyes bored into Norah’s. She couldn’t tell if the woman was going to hug her, or smash her face in.

“Hawke has told me...well, I was going to say a lot about you, but truth is no one knows much about you”, she said. The tone of her voice made Norah uneasy, and she dropped Aveline’s hand.

“I, umm...it’s...kind of a long story? Leandra mentioned we’d have a talk in the morning”, Norah began.

Aveline cut her off. “Yes, that’s what I’m here about. Hawke is rustling up the rest of the group”, she waved her hand near the door.

“Oh. I was actually-”, Norah started, but stopped when a dark haired woman shuffled into the room, yawning.

“Stop bothering her, you old biddy”, the dark haired woman said, walking up to Norah. She looked down at her gloves, and adjusted them.  
“Nice of you to join us”, Aveline said, crossing her arms. Her tone was icy. “How was Hawke’s bed last night? Comfortable, I take it?”

“Oh, look. I must have broken a nail from being so delicate”, the woman said splaying her fingers out, amused.

Aveline chuckled softly, and smirked.

“I’m Isabela”, she winked at Norah, and looked her up and down. Her black hair was tousled, a blue bandana tied on her head. Her skin was the color of mocha, and she wore heavy gold jewelry that made it glow. Amber eyes smoldered at her.

“And aren’t you a pretty thing, kitten”, Isabela purred. She gazed openly at Norah’s cleavage, and laughed when she tried to cover herself.

“Leave her alone, slattern”, Aveline barked.

“I’m just taking a peek”, Isabela winked at Norah again. “Besides, she can take a peek, too”. She sauntered over to the bed, and sat down. She was a shapely woman, and wore a tight tunic as a dress that put everything on display.

“Where’s Hawke?”, Aveline asked Isabela. “Maker, what’s taking that woman so long”, she seethed under her breath.

Isabela shrugged.

“I’d really like to eat-”, Norah broke the silence, but was cut off by Hardy’s muffled boof. He lifted his head, and perked his ears toward the door.

“In here, dear”, Leandra bustled in. Another woman carrying a large bag followed behind.

“Oh, hello Aveline. Isabela”, she nodded to each. “I’m sorry to burst in, but the seamstress needs some measurements before she can start making you new clothes”. The seamstress started taking her tools out, and arranging them on the bed. “We’ll need you out of...this”, she said, and motioned to Norah’s robe.

“I suppose I’ll wait downstairs”, Aveline said, and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

“Hope you don’t mind me here, kitten”, Isabela laughed. Leandra sighed and shook her head, not bothering to object. The seamstress went about taking Norah’s robe off deftly. “We’ll need this off, too”, she yanked on the tight night gown.

“Uhh..”, Norah stammered.

The seamstress handed her a small piece of fabric that looked like a tube top. “Your nightgown is too tight to get accurate measurements. Put this on, and we’ll see what we can do. Do you need underclothes as well?” Norah stared at the seamstress. “Just put these on, too”, she sighed, handing the stack of clothes to her. She pushed Norah to a folding screen Leandra brought out.

Norah, uncomfortable and feeling light-headed, began prying the night gown off. It was slow going as she tried to pull it over her rolls, and then off her head. She changed into the underclothes the seamstress gave her, marveling at how alike they looked; almost like the ones back home. They were a powder blue satin, with a delicate bow on the back. The tube top was almost like a strapless bra, but without underwire. Norah groaned at that. Once, she remembered, her son had asked, “Why do boobies hang to the floor, mommy?”.

“Need any help?”, the seamstress said, interrupting her thoughts.

“No, no. I’m fine, thank you”, she answered, shoving her breasts into the tube-top-bra-thing. It fit better than she imagined, but she knew she looked ridiculous. She stepped out from behind the screen. Isabela gave a whistle.

The seamstress beckoned her over, and she began arranging Norah’s arms and legs. She brought out a long piece of cloth, and wrapped it around various areas of Norah’s body, marking each in a neat journal.

Leandra smiled, “Sorry for us being here, but I wanted to help with picking out colors. Deidre here is all booked up for a while, otherwise I’d have waited”.

“Good thing you didn’t”, Isabela piped up. She was lounging on the bed, her head propped up on her hand.

Leandra opened her mouth to reprimand, but another commotion erupted outside. She rushed to the door, and opened the handle, peeking outside. Hawke stood on the other side, with Aveline trying to keep her away.

“Mother!”, she called, and slipped past Aveline, “Where is..”, she said, forcing the door wide open. Leandra stumbled back.

Norah and the seamstress froze as Hawke burst in, followed by a male elf with tattoos all over his body, a female elf with tattoos on her face, and a man in odd white armor.

“Maker’s balls, I tried telling you”, Aveline huffed, behind everyone.

There was an awkward silence for a few heartbeats. Isabela waved, smiling. Hardy jumped up with a bark, and ran to Hawke, his stump of a tail wagging. Hawke grinned, amused at the situation, but stayed silent. The man in the white armor blushed a bright red, and averted his gaze elsewhere, clearing his throat. The female elf giggled a bit, tilting her head. The male elf just stared intensely. He frowned, and started to speak, but something made him stop. Norah instinctively tried to hide her body with her arms, but realized it was futile. Everyone had seen enough already.

“Tried telling us what?”, Varric offered from behind Aveline. “Oh”, he said, looking at the scene before him. Anders stood near Varric, mouth open in bewilderment.  
Norah looked from face to face, and threw her arms up in defeat.

“So...anyone else joining this parade? Should we send out invitations? My stretch marks can’t be that pretty”, Norah demanded.

“Well, your tattoos certainly are”, the female elf said, cheerily.

Norah sighed loudly, exasperated. “Ok, I think we’re done here. Show’s over, everyone. Out!”

“You heard her. Move!”, Aveline shoved everyone out, one by one, and closed the door again, mumbling an apology. The seamstress started to pack up her things, shaking her head. “Always interesting in this house. I won’t have your clothes made for a week or two. I do have one dress for you to wear today, but it won’t be the best fit. I have some things in the meantime I can tailor, just tell Leandra to bring you by my shop tomorrow”. She smiled at Norah, and handed her a dress from her bag. She started towards the door, but looked back before opening it. “And...good luck”.

Norah sighed. “Thank you”, she said. The seamstress gave her a nod, and closed the door behind her. She stared down at the dress. It was a soft dove grey, almost lavender, and it shimmered in the sunlight. There was delicate stitching that swirled around the collar, and down the bodice. Norah stepped behind the folding screen, and began putting it on. It laced up the back, and scooped low in the front. The sleeves puffed at the top, and ended three quarters the way on her arms, showing off the tattoos in her arms. Norah struggled with tightening the laces.

The dress fit rather well, if a little tight up top, which she was used to. But it was at least a tad more modest than Hawke’s night gown. She started for the door to ask for help, and almost tripped over the dress. It was at least six inches too long at the bottom.

“Jesus Christ! If I ever get back home, I’ll never complain about not finding anything to wear”, she muttered. Hiking up the dress with one hand, she pulled the door open a smidge and poked her head out into the hallway. No one was there.

“Damnit”, she cursed. She neared the stairs, hoping to find Leandra nearby.

“Norah?”, she heard Anders’ voice. “Are you all right?”

He appeared on the landing, looking up at her. She backed away a little, feeling herself blush.

“I’m fine. I just...need help”, she said, biting her lip.

“I can help you”, he offered, climbing the stairs to stand in front of her. “What’s the matter?”

Norah stared at the ground, feeling flustered. “No, it’s ok. I just..um...need help with my dress”, she pointed behind her.

“Well, I think I can help you with that”, he laughed. “Here, why don’t we go back to your room before everyone else storms up here again”.

She nodded, still feeling uncomfortable, but decided it was useless to argue.

Anders closed the door behind them, and motioned for her to sit on the bed. “Aveline and Leandra are having it out with Hawke, and the rest of the crew is in an uproar. You’ve made quite the impression already”, he chuckled to himself. He sat behind her, and moved her hair over her shoulder. She could feel him tugging at the laces.

“It’s not exactly the welcoming I expected”, she confided. “I feel so embarrassed. How am I supposed to go out there now?”

“Don’t worry. Everyone’s already seen plenty of Isabela”, he joked. The dress tightened around her chest and waist as he tied off the laces. She shifted on the bed, and stood up. Somehow she felt even worse than before.

“Yeah, but, she’s gorgeous. She’s not fat, and she probably doesn’t have stretch marks, and her boobs are probably still perky, and..”, she sulked.

“And she’s Isabela, not you”, Anders said. He stood, grasping her hand, and drew her near to him. His other hand found her face, and he caressed her cheek, his thumb tracing her lips. Her breathing became faster.

“Besides, you are beautiful”, he whispered, and cupped her chin. He leaned close, and found her mouth. She didn’t resist, and his tongue searched for hers eagerly. Her body erupted in electricity, and she could feel a smoldering sensation that tingled in her fingertips. She returned the kiss, pressing herself into him. Her hands moved up to his shoulders, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. She could feel his hands roving down her back.

She pulled back before they got carried away, the both of them breathing heavily. She twined her fingers in his hair, and looked up at him. He met her gaze, and for a moment none of them said a word.

“I’m sorry”, he began, looking away. “I shouldn’t have…”

She smiled, and brought a finger to his lips, shushing him. He grabbed her hands, and stepped back. “No, you don’t understand. I can’t-”

A knock at the door made him stop. He furrowed his eyebrows, and shook his head. Norah gave him a confused look.

“We’ll talk about this later”, he said, walking to the door. He opened it wide, and pushed past Varric without a word.

Varric looked from Anders to Norah, and raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t. Say. Anything”, she said through clenched teeth. Varric put his hands up in appeasement.

“I’m sure whatever happened is between you and Blondie”, he joked. Norah sighed in frustration, and rolled her eyes.

“I know it wasn’t the best of first impressions, but you honestly could have done worse,” Varric chuckled. “Everyone is even more excited to meet you now, if you can believe it. And I think you actually embarrassed Hawke more than anything. Which is pretty hard to do”.

She crossed her arms.

Varric sighed, “Look, you have clothes on that are...better...than what you had before you came here. Just come down with me and we’ll smooth things over with everyone. Trust me, we’ve seen enough of Isabela”.

Norah groaned audibly, and rubbed her temples. “Ok, you know what? Fine. Whatever. I’ll go. Lead the way. Just don’t expect me to be the cheeriest person in the room”.

  
Varris guffawed, “You the broodiest of the bunch? No, no. I’m afraid you’ll be third, maaaybe fourth place in that competition”.

***

The dining hall was chaos. Orana and an older, bearded dwarf were running to and from the kitchen to refill drinks, and bring fresh food to the table. Aveline and Hawke were engaged in a heated discussion. Isabela inspected a dagger, her boots stretched out on the table. The female elf was feeding bits of food to the dog under the table. The male elf with the tattoos was gulping down wine, and frowning. The man with the white armor had his eyes closed, and seemed almost at peace. A younger dwarf sat near the female elf, and clapped his hands to a beat no one else was providing. Leandra sipped some tea, and spoke to a young man seated next to her. He looked a little like Hawke. Anders was nowhere to be seen, and Norah was grateful for that, for the moment at least.

The room quieted down as she entered behind Varric. “Well, I see everyone is having a good time”, he clapped his hands together. “As you know, we have a special guest with us”, he cleared his throat. “May I present, Norah of...well, I guess it doesn’t matter. But please give her a warm welcome to Kirkwall”. He pushed her forward, and she gave an awkward wave.

“And now for introductions,” he motioned for her to sit. She sat between Varric, and the man in the white armor, who smiled down at her. He was exceedingly handsome with deep auburn hair, and the same unearthly blue eyes as Hawke’s. He beamed at her, and reached out to take her hand. He gave it a little kiss. “I’m Sebastian, my lady. It’s a pleasure to meet you”, he released her hand. She blushed, and mumbled a thank you.

“The elf next to him is Fenris”, Varric continued, eyeing Sebastian. Fenris finished taking a sip, staring at Norah. He stood up, and made a small bow. “I’m not one for words, but welcome”, he croaked in a voice much deeper than she had imagined. Like granite, but it had a tone of softness.

“You’ve already met Isabela, Hawke, and Aveline”, each nodded in her direction, and Isabela winked, twirling her dagger.

“The other elf is Merrill. She’s Dalish, so she’s a little…”

“A little what?”, Merrill said in a lilting voice. “A little friendly?”, she giggled. “Pleased to meet you, Norah. You’re, um...you’re very pretty. And I like your tattoos”.

Norah smiled at Merrill, “Thank you”, she said.

“May I...May I see them later? I mean, if you don’t mind. Not...not the ones underneath your clothes. I saw those. I, um, just wanted to take a look. If-if you don’t mind. It’s ok if you say no…”

“I call her Daisy”, Varric cut in. “It explains a lot”. He smiled at her, and continued.

“The dwarf running around with Orana is Bodhan. He helps keep the place running smoothly. Let’s see...you’ve already met the mother of the Hawke children, Leandra, and next to her is Hawke’s younger brother, Junior. I mean, Carver”. Varric smirked.

“Ha, very funny, Varric” Carver rolled his eyes.

“Be nice, and say hi to our guest, Carver”, Hawke called from across the table.

“Yes, yes, it’s so nice meeting you. I just don’t understand why we all had to be here”.

Hawke shook her head at Carver, and turned to Norah. “I think that’s enough introductions for one day. Shall we eat?”

Norah realized a plate of food was in front of her, and her mouth began to salivate. She nodded, and picked up her fork. An assortment of sausages, bacon, fried bread, and a hard boiled egg sat on her plate. She dug in with fervor. A steaming mug of tea sat to the right of her plate. She had not had a satisfying breakfast as this in a long time. She reached for a bowl of blood oranges, but couldn’t quite make it.

“Allow me”, Sebastian smiled. He picked one up, and began peeling it for her.

“Oh. Thank you”, Norah said.

“It is nice to see a lady with some manners”, he said. “Some have none”.

“I suppose that was directed at me”, Isabela said, biting into a sausage. She made it seem vulgar, and Norah couldn’t tell if it was on purpose or not.

“It was directed at no one in particular”, he said primly. “It was just an observation”.

“If we’re making observations, I should like that you all stop bickering”, Fenris said.

“Only you’re not bickering because Anders isn’t here”, Merrill offered, smiling.

“All right! So good breakfast, yes? Nice to see everyone getting along swimmingly”, Hawke scolded, amused. “I think before we show her anymore of our famous Kirkwall hospitality, maybe she’d like to tell us more about herself?”

Norah stopped mid-chew, and swallowed.

“Uhh...sure?”, she wiped her mouth on a napkin. “I’m from…”, she stopped, seeing everyone’s attention on her.

“It’s just...I have no idea where there is in relation to here. So I can tell you I lived in America, but we just say the U.S. because it's short for the Unite States of America. But you have no idea where that is, right? I mean, I used to live in Texas, then Louisiana, and then moved to New Hampshire. But that doesn’t mean anything to you.

  
I had a son, and a husband. My son was eight years old, in second grade. We were worried about him doing well in school. My husband wanted to get a new job. My mom’s health was declining, and my dad, well...he passed away almost a decade ago. I had some really good friends. I took care of the elderly, and was a musician on the side. But life was good, you know? It was good. And then I...I don’t remember. I woke up. Here. Not there. Here. And now…”, she trailed off, trying to fight back tears. Everyone stared at her in silence.

She put her face in her hands, and took a deep breath. Varric pat her shoulder.

“I don’t know. I say the story so many times to myself, but it doesn’t seem real. None of this seems real. I don’t have my phone. I don't have internet. I don’t have a car. I don’t even have any of my clothes. I can’t have coffee in the mornings anymore…”

“Wait”, Varric shouted, bewildered. “You mean to tell me you have coffee every morning?”

Norah was taken aback, and looked at him as if he had grown two heads. “Well, yeah, most everyone does...”

He laughed. And laughed.

“You must be aristocracy”, Fenris sneered.

She shook her head. “No! It’s easy to get a cup of coffee. I mean, you have to have some money. But you can just go to Starbucks. They have one literally everywhere. Though, McDonald’s has way cheaper coffee. But I prefer Dunkin’ Donuts myself…”

Varric snorted, and put his hands up to silence her. “So there’s multiple shops to get coffee? And it’s cheap?! Andraste’s ass, I’ve gotta write this down”.

Norah sighed, and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. “I’m just a foreigner, right? Nothing makes sense. I’m from far away, and in a bit of culture shock. I miss my family. But…”, she sat up, and looked at Hawke. “I’m grateful you’ve taken me in. If there’s any way I can repay you…”

Hawke waved her hand. “Don’t worry. We’re all a family here. Whether we want to be or not. You’re just the newest member”. She smiled, stood up, and stretched. “We’ll let you settle in before we make you do any real work”. She winked at Norah, and walked out of the room.

Aveline spoke. “I’ve...got to talk to the Viscount about you”, she jabbed her fork in Norah’s direction. “It won’t be easy, but I'll talk with him. You’ll have to pay taxes once you start earning coin. Other than that, you’ll be the least of his worries, I think”.

“Don’t sweat it”, Varric said. “We’re all misfits here. You’ll fit right in”.

She wasn’t so sure.

**Author's Note:**

> I've always had this headcanon that Anders already had an extremely friendly cat hanging around his clinic that would hunt mice/rats, as well as boost morale in the clinic.


End file.
